


Tea

by wolfsgrin



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsgrin/pseuds/wolfsgrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We prostrate ourselves at the feet of the living so we can properly mourn the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Derek/Lydia-ish, post 3x23 Au from there, spoilers abound.

_We prostrate ourselves at the feet of the living so we can properly mourn the dead._

 

The pain is a physical thing. It’s the clench of her stomach, the vice around her heart making it hard to breathe around the sobs. Her knees are sore and damp and she stumbles- collapses against the stone wall. Allison. Her throat burns, she can’t manage another scream, she’s afraid no one would hear anyway, not even Stiles, whose still passed out beside her. Crawling to the bars, she tries to shake them free, but her hands feel useless clutching them. She shuts her eyes, breathing through her nose, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart and think of something, anything else. It does her no good. Allison is slipping away, more than just a mental thing; she feels the tear of her, the light going out.

They rescue her, because of course they would, but no one even looks at each other. The forest is dark; she can barely see the floor beneath her, covered in leaves and brambles. It’s too cold. Stiles takes a step towards her reaching out a hand, but she brushes past, avoiding the touch. Lydia doesn’t want to blame him, it’s not even logical but her body feels shuttered, and she just has no energy.

“Can you drive me home?” Derek sort of nods, the furrow of his brow telling her how confused he is, but she knows he caught everything.

 

_Kira_

Lydia hates the waking up part, that moment half between sleep and being full aware when all the memories are at the back of her mind, shielded from view. Then they come rushing back and it happens all over again, the loss, the grief, it settles inside her, hollows her out. Dragging herself out of bed she settles on staying in her pajamas, eyes wandering to the phone at her bedside, it seems to mock her, just another reminder that Allison will never call again. Shifting away from the sunlight, she pulls the covers over her eyes, hoping that maybe she can just drift away and back to that place in her head, where the past few weeks never happened.

Kira is the first one to show up on Lydia’s doorstep, shyly ducking her head and shifting from one foot to the other. She motions her in, leading her to the kitchen. Lydia busies herself with putting the kettle on, simple graceful motions, which are so familiar it doesn’t require her to think.

“I’m sorry about Allison.”

Lydia feels her heart pick up, fingers stumbling as she reaches for the mugs from the cabinet. Taking a deep breath, she faces the girl with a smile, “Thank you.”

It feels wrong somehow, getting condolences for a loss they all share, one that feels as big as Ethan’s and Scott’s but selfishly she knows probably isn’t, no matter how horrible her insides twist with just her name in the air.

Kira winds her fingers around the mug, “I wish I could have…” Her big brown eyes turn up to Lydia and redhead swallows against the guilt she sees there.

“Allison is a fighter… was. She died protecting the people she loved.” The words feel like cardboard in her mouth, the stock answer that does nothing to quell the ache in her chest. The weight settles there and she can barely breathe around it, but she reaches a hand out to Kira, gripping the hand still shaped like a vice around her mug.

“She liked you, said you were dangerous with a katana, pretty high praise from an Argent.” Lydia lets her hand fall away, watching the blush creep up Kira’s cheeks before she ducks her head. Lydia takes a sip of her tea and lapses into silence for a second, the morning sun warm against her back through the window.

“We’re friends now just so you know.” Lydia can’t say best friends, it rolled off the tongue so easy the day she met Allison, now it would feel like a betrayal, but Kira’s smile is bright with relief and maybe that can make up for it a bit.

 

_Isaac_

She doesn’t expect him to come to her, let alone sneak through her back door and scare her half to death. But suddenly he’s just there, standing awkwardly in the kitchen Kira had vacated just a few hours before. She hugs him, feels the shake of his shoulders as he sobs, wet tears pooling against her neck. He’s at least a foot taller but his entire body slouches against hers, and she winds her arms around him, fingers in his hair, soothing words hushed against his cheek. The pain ebbs and flows and for nearly ten minutes all she can do is try and take some of his away.

When he pulls away eyes rimmed red, looking disheveled and tired, more tired than any 17 year old should look, something seizes in her chest again.

“Go get some sleep, the guestroom is right beside mine, upstairs.” He looks ready to argue but she palms his cheek in her hand, shaking her head against any argument he could make. She hears his lumbering steps and the shut of the door and she sinks down along the wall. Her breath is too shallow and all she can feel is the tremor in her hands, even bunched into fists against her knees they shake, taking a deep breath she swallows against the tears, refusing to fall apart.

 

_Stiles_

He still seems like a shadow, even right in front of her, every facial tick, every movement of his hands; it never seems far away from what that thing would do. She can still feel his breath against her neck, those fingers leaving bruises along her arms. It isn’t the same; it can’t be, not anymore.

“I can’t do this, not now, Stiles.” Her voice is thick, betraying some of the fear that lances through her unbidden. She takes a step back as he moves forward, crossing her arms, trying to force some distance, and he notices, nervous energy flitting through him. He tries to say something but the blood is so loud in her ears she can’t focus, she just wants him away. The picture of Allison dead and bloody is imprinted behind her eyelids and she blames him. White hot fury hits her, causes her nails to dig into her palms, to keep her still, stop her from reaching forward and making him hurt the way she does.

When he finally leaves her doorstep, that familiar hunch to his shoulders, long and lanky limbs nearly causing him to trip, she wishes she could reach out and make him understand. It wasn’t him, just a stranger with his face, but it feels real.

 

_Derek_

He finds her on the back porch, a mug of tea clutched in her hands, long gone cold. She’s not really paying attention when he approaches, but she can feel it, it’s almost comforting how familiar it seems. His knee brushes hers as he sits on the porch step, hand hesitantly reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her cheek.

“Isaac is upstairs sleeping.” He nods, eyes fixed on the fading sun above them. It’s almost pretty, the gold’s and pinks splashing across the sky, but the cold still lingers, making her fingers feel stiff and useless. Derek glances at the still full mug in her hands and she shrugs, “I’ve had too much tea, enough for a lifetime.” He pries it from her grasp setting it down behind them, and something clicks. That empty space between her hands, the thoughts she can’t bury deep enough, it bubbles up. She can’t hold in the choking sob, can’t catch it between her teeth, it burns her throat and she squirms against it, against him.

He crushes her to him, a grip so tight she can barely breathe, but the pain is searing, the tears falling fast and hot. His hand grips her hair, and he’s steady and solid against her, whispering the same things she’d said to Isaac. Lydia can feel his grief too, it feels suffocating. It’s what Derek carries with him every day and it just tears her heart even more. She takes a few shaky breaths, bracing her hands on his arms, her forehead falling against his.

“You’re going to be okay.” A childish part of her wants to shake her head and let all the pieces fall apart, but she knows she can’t afford that, not anymore. Instead she nods, breathing in the scent of pine and snow that seems to linger around him, etched just beneath his skin.

Derek stands, dragging her up with him, “Get some sleep.” He brushes a kiss against her hairline and disappears, she wants to call him back, make him stay, try to find an anchor against the churning in her stomach, but she needs to be the strong one now; for Allison.

 


End file.
